26. just lucas garcia


***

Today is the day.

The day that Lucas Garcia has been ecstatic about, sending fervent reminders my way every two seconds just to drill the fact into my head. It's the day. The day he gets up onstage and shows the world what he's made of.

The day he gets to shine.

Even though he's always been a star to me. Maybe even a supernova. Brighter than anything else in the galaxy, a fucking explosion.

Everyone's sprawled around the table, Angie leaning forward in her seat, sandwich in one hand and phone in the other, hair falling over her face as she lazily blows it away. Lucas is seated to my right.

My boyfriend is seated to my right.

He's grinning, fingers tapping rapidly, nerves practically exuding from him. A laugh escapes my lips at the sight of it, and from across our side of the table is Grandma.

She has her hands clasped, me still biting into a banh mi as Lucas breaks off small bits of the baguette, stuffing it into his mouth.

"I am so proud," Grandma says suddenly, dragging all attention to her. She clasps her hands together, a smile breaking onto her lips. "So proud that Lucas is going to perform today, as the main character."

Lucas' grin is wide, but nervous. "I'm just," he raises a hand to his chest as though to calm his rising nerves. "I'm so nervous." His voice rises, eyes widening. "This is opening night, like, I have to make a good impression. And I'm so nervous about it, Dios."

Crinkles appear underneath Grandma's eyes as she sends him an assuring smile, my hand resting on his bouncing leg underneath the table, until the bouncing slows. 

"I've got to get my things," he says, breathlessly, running a hand through his hair.  

"Alright," I say, sending him an easy nod. He smiles in return, readying himself to rise to his feet as he leans forward almost on instinct, most likely about to give me one of those soft kisses before he leaves.

But his eyes widen almost instantaneously, gaze sliding over to Grandma as it visibly dawns on him that she's still here and watching. So, with that, he settles for an awkward pat on the shoulder, and I have to stifle the laugh that's attempting to escape my lips.

Although, Angie's not as subtle, letting out a snort as she chuckles into her coffee.

With that, redness splashes Lucas' face, and he gives a semi-awkward salute before sidling away.

Once he's gone, Grandma's eyes zero in on me.

I swallow, eyebrows raised. "What?"

"Lucas. He was about to kiss you?" She asks, curiosity still flying across her irises.

My throat runs dry, heart rate beating at an immense speed as I slowly take in a deep breath, letting the oxygen infuse my lungs.

"He's special to me," I finally say, not exactly answering her verbal question as much as I'm answering her unspoken one. "He's my..." Amusement flies through my chest as I think back to Lucas' incident with his sister. "He's my Lucas."

Although, this time, it's more gentle, soft. I'm opening myself up to her, and I'm not sure whether I'm capable of breathing. My eyes stay on the table top, and I will myself to continue breathing, continue living, my eyes refusing to meet her eyes.

A soft hand on mine causes my gaze to flick upwards. Grandma's hand stays on mine, surely and carefully, and when my eyes find hers, there's a shadow of a half smile painting her lips.

"I understand," she says gently. And somehow, she communicates the world to me in those two words. Her eyes are so soft, so assuring, that it's hard for me to stifle the vulnerability seeping through my chest.

I can already feel the water threatening to seep from my eyes, and I rub a frantic fist over them, laughing gently.

Before I can say anything else, Lucas makes a reappearance, duffle bag hanging from his shoulders. He bounces from foot to foot, nervous laughs escaping his lips. "Oh my God, this is happening. It's actually time to go. Mierda."

I rise to my feet, letting my arms slide around Lucas' shoulders. "You're going to be perfect."

Lucas seems to be hyperventilating as he meets my eyes with his wide ones. "Don't jinx it, Jason."

Raising both of my hands in the air in faux defense, I release a slight chuckle as Angie sends us a nod from where she's seated.

"Grandma and I'll meet you there," she sends us a lazy salute, throwing a wink in Lucas' direction. "Break a leg."

"Thanks," Lucas says, his laughter still sounding somewhat frenzied. Amusement rises to Grandma's features.

"Well, see you," I say, closely following after Lucas, and I receive eager waves in return.

Sliding into my car, Lucas slides into the seat next to me, slightly fanning his face, and muttering something in Spanish that I'm guessing has something to do with the heat inside of the car. But I'm guessing the heat is primarily being caused by his nerves.

I start the car, Lucas' knee bouncing in the seat next to me, the car leaving Grandma's neighborhood as we cruise down streets. It's a smooth drive—highly contrasting Lucas' palpable nervousness about his performance— and with the exception of my occasional flipping off of other drivers every so often.

Aside from the occasional chuckles at my short fits of road rage, Lucas is mostly silent throughout the entire drive.

A few seconds of silence go by before Lucas suddenly speaks up, eyes still on the window.

"Do you—do you think they'll show up?" His voice is soft as he asks the question, running a hand through his hair before clarifying, "my parents, I mean."

I take a few moments to let his words seep through the atmosphere. Humming, I send a brief glance towards Lucas, voice gentle. "I think that if they don't come, they're the ones that are missing out." A pause. "Anyone who deserves you wouldn't miss that performance for the world."

A soft grin curves onto his lips at the statement, at the assurance in my tone, at the seriousness in my expression. 

And it's hard for me to resist returning it.

***

No sooner have we stepped into the main area of the school, not too far away from the auditorium, has the director—Ms. Ingram— rushed up to Lucas, talking a mile a minute, and ushering him towards the changing rooms, shoving the costume into his hands.

It's all a flurry of action, and Lucas barely gets to send a nervous smile my way before he's disappeared into the crowd, costume-clad teens bustling around the space.

Lingering behind in the lobby, I purse my lips as I watch everything unfold, watch people speedwalk from place to place, frenzied laughs filling the air, and frantic recitations being said as costumes are adjusted.

My attention is dragged away from the scene when I feel a tap on the shoulder. Turning, I see a familiar brunette, waves down to her shoulders and expression easy as per usual once I meet her eyes.

"Ellie," I grin, and she mirrors the expression with one of her own as she stands right next to me, pointer finger briefly running over her helix piercing as she returns the greeting. We watch in silence, her quiet presence almost seeming to be grounding, a calm force.

The silence is interrupted by a slight smirk rising to Ellie's lips as she glances up at me. "Here to see your boyfriend perform?"

I nearly choke on air, as Ellie hums to herself.

Trying to gather my thoughts together, I blink nothing short of a million times, casting her a wary glance as nothing escapes my lips.

Finally, I sputter. "Where'd you get that from?"

"Come on," Ellie replies, "when I walked in on you guys in the drama room that day, it was pretty fucking obvious that you weren't reciting lines."

Taking my lack of a response as a cue for her to continue, she plows on. "I let it go, obviously, because it was none of my business. But that doesn't mean I couldn't tell." She finishes it off with a knowing half-smirk, one that I blink at.

Before anything else can be said, our names rise to the air. "Eleanor! Jason!"

We whip around, Monday coming bounding towards us, black hair a mess of curls, eyes bright with eyeliner. 

"You two excited for opening night?" They ask, grin appearing on their lips as they glance up at the two of us, Ellie having about three inches over them.

"Can't wait to see shit happen." Ellie nods, Monday flinging their arm around her shoulder almost instinctively. 

"Everyone seems hella excited," they say, pointedly, while still using almost all of their weight— which is practically nothing— to lazily lean against Ellie.

"I'm excited," I say, Monday's grin appearing.

"I know you are," they say, sending a smooth wink my way before going on a full-blown spiel about the preparations and how talented they think all the actors are, and what the set is probably going to look like.

Opening night dominates the rest of our conversation. And what was supposed to be hours until the doors open seem to transition to minutes with our light conversation filling the air.

Once the doors open, Monday beckons us forward, easily linking their elbows into ours as we make our way down the lobby and into the auditorium. The chairs are a deep velvet, and after handing our tickets in, we make our way towards a center-front row, each of us taking a seat.

Monday taps their combat boots on the floor, our conversation falling to a whisper, but not a complete stop. And soon, Amir, Daniella, and Riya show up, finding our row in minutes, all sliding into any spare seat that's close enough.

No sooner has Daniella sat down has Monday pulled her into conversation, both letting out laughs as they continue to talk.

Not even a couple of seats away from me, Amir and Ellie are finally formally introduced. And it's always struck me that the two overly attractive and zero-fucks-given-aura-type teenagers would either be at each other's throats or an unstoppable duo.

And they seem to already mesh, bonding over some shit like My Chemical Romance, or Back to the Future. And with their easy conversation about said topics, I'm quick to inform them that their movie taste is old as hell.

Although, they don't seem to find the jab entertaining and proceed to make fun of my haircut for the next half hour, Ellie mentioning that it almost seems that my angsty teenage phase has never come to an end.

Assholes.

However, their teasing is cut short by a deep voice bursting from the speakers. 

And finally, the performance starts. The curtains are drawn, the space dark. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, singing rises to the air, three girls decked out in blue dresses making their way to the forefront of the stage, their voices sweetly intertwining.

I recognize one of them as Alyssa Jackson, and they all sing, elbows linked, grins wide. They harmonize.

And not too long later, Lucas' character makes his way onstage, and it seems like all eyes stay on him. Despite his nerves from this morning, he's vibrant, a glowing beacon of a persona as he speaks and sings from onstage.

I seem to gloss over the entire performance once he arrives onstage. I'm enthralled, really, the only thing snatching my attention away—albeit, briefly— is quiet Spanish being spoken from a couple of rows away.

And there they are. Lucas' dad, hands clasped on his laps, Lucas' mom, seated next to him, a smile breaking out onto her lips. 

Hell, Luis is there, still in his football gear, helmet off, but bright blue shoulder pads, knee pads, thigh pads, and overall jersey insanely obvious from where he's seated. 

And of course Valeria's there, hair pulled into a high ponytail, leaning forward in her seat as she purses her lips in interest.

Fucking Abuelita is even there, and I'm tempted to say that her presence is most likely the highlight out of his entire family.

They seemed to have arrived recently, still able to catch the beginning of the show. From where Lucas is standing onstage, his eyes almost seem to brighten. 

The musical continues, the audience intrigued, barks of laughter escaping people's lips when appropriate, Lucas' family completely immersed. Hours later, it comes to an end, all the actors holding onto a last note as they're all strewn across the floor.

And then, the auditorium rumbles.

***

No sooner has Lucas stepped foot into the lobby—costume still on— have we all swarmed him, the GSA and my friends, all practically engulfing him in our presence.

Lucas' face is flushed, grin wide, his starry eyes finding mine. And then he's against me, my arms around him and his arms around me, and he grins as he pulls me in closer, my face pressed into his hair as I breathe in his citrus scent.

A low whistle escapes Amir's lips at the scene.

And I'm tempted to flip him off, but decide to hold Lucas closer instead. That is, until a small clear of the throat causes us to pull away.

Lucas' family stands there, all of them a little ways away, eyes finding Lucas, who blinks several times in response.

And then Valeria's hugging him, giving him a semi-aggressive shake. "Outstanding," she says, shaking him once more, giving him a clap in the back of the head. Abuelita's there as well, her arm sliding around her grandson's shoulder, some sort of silent acceptance emitting from her fragile frame.

"You came," Lucas breathes, his abuelita gently rubbing his shoulder. "I thought you were going to—"

"Shut up, man, I have games every other week," Luis cuts in from where he's standing, shoulders falling into a shrug. "Told mom and dad to head off to the musical—which they were going to attend, anyway." A pause.

He continues, hands moving as he paints the story, "and, then, I ditched."

It seems like the weight of the words actually dawn on him in that moment, because Luis lets out a mangled sound, pinching the bridge of his nose as he continues.

 "Told Coach to sub Todd in for me. And shit, Todd doesn't know how to fucking catch, Christ." A semi-joking sob escapes his lips. "What have I done?"

"Anyways," Their mom's quick to jump in, her hand rising to her chest. "That performance left me speechless, príncipe." She's in front of him in seconds, tucking a curl behind her ear. "How do you feel?"

Lucas just shrugs in response, shaking his head. "I don't know, Mom."

She makes her way up to him, both of them staring at each other as though facing off. 

Finally, Lucas sighs, and his mom echoes the sound. He opens his arms, letting out one of those shaky laughs as she fawns over him, most likely asking how he's been, where he's stayed, if he's okay, worrying over a minuscule bruise below his ear.

Her fawning, however, comes to a pause when Lucas' eyes find his dad's. His dad is a little further behind, hands clasped, smile slightly tight. Lucas' mom pulls away, and the two stare at each other, Lucas adjusting the glasses of his costume before sliding his hands into his pockets.

The gesture is mirrored by his father, and I have to blink, wondering if they realize they share the exact same tendencies.

Lucas might not be the black sheep he's always thought he was.

"I'm proud of you," Lucas' dad says, and the rest of us seem to almost step back to give them space. His expression is firm, but his words are gentle. "Always have been, for the record." He pauses, exhaling slowly. 

"But, look, I realize that I haven't been showing that." His hands rise to the air, just slightly. "And that's on me." He nods once again, Lucas mirroring the gesture. "One thing you've gotta know, though, is that you were increíble." A pause. "Kid, gay or not, you're still my son. And hella talented, at that." He says, head tilted to the side.

"But, come on." His dad continues, "you were always talented. Long before I even told you so." A mutter. "But, sorry. For not telling you. Making you think you weren't."

Lucas eyes seem to well at that before he lets out an incredulous laugh. "Dad, did you just... admit you were wrong?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," his dad grunts in response, shaking his head. He waves a hand. "You heard nothing."

Lucas' mom rolls her eyes, giving her husband a shake of the head as Luis finally gets in on the scene once more, still all clad in football gear, drawing attention from most people in the area.

Luis claps Lucas on the back, a grin breaking out onto his face. "Owned the whole-ass stage."

And it's hard for me to prevent a grin as the rest of our friends depart from the scene, and Lucas' family hovers around him, hugging him, laughing. Almost seeming to really show him that they truly accept him. For the first time.

And when Lucas' mom glances up, eyes finding mine, she lets out a quick question, grin hopeful. "Would you like to come over for dinner, Torpe?"

I almost sigh. She is never going to let that go, is she? I'm starting to wonder if she's forgotten my real name, or, hell, even knows it.

"Nowhere else I'd rather be, ma'am," I say, and the grin that breaks onto Lucas' mom's lips is matched my mine.

***

At the dinner table, we eat ropa vieja, at least, that's what Lucas' family informs me it is. And it's almost nice to be back at their home, cutlery clinking, glasses filled with some sort of mango juice, and smiles rising to the air as Lucas seems to slide back into his family dynamic, bit by bit.

For the first time—since I've seen, at least— Lucas' family is interrogating him about the musical, his performance being one of the main subjects, and his singing. They're asking him to tell them everything they've ever missed, I guess, and his mom drops the idea of seeing a musical together. As a family.

They pull me into the conversation, Lucas' parents attempting to chat me up. The conversation's light, albeit slightly awkward.

"So," Lucas' mom says, gingerly placing her glass back onto the table as she meets my eyes, "you must be proud of him. I know we are."

Her grin is light, and so are her words. Somehow, though, it seems like she's asking more than she's verbally conveying. "Oh, you have no idea," I reply, grin widening.

"Yeah," Lucas cuts in with a smirk, only stopping briefly, taking a short break from his food to speak, "you should've seen him practically drooling over Lucas from the audience." A snort. "Simp."

With that overly-obvious statement, Lucas kicks his brother from underneath the table, Luis letting out a pointed mierda as he lets out a hiss.

Valeria tries to stifle a laugh, a snort escaping her lips.

Lucas' dad coughs, clearing his throat, eyes finding mine. "So, Jason, you're Lucas'—?" He starts, not finishing the sentence as he clears his throat once more.

"Boyfriend?" Valeria supplies, fork lazily held between her fingers, grin devilish, "that's what it's called, Papá."

I glance over at Lucas, who shoots me a small grin, resting his leg on mine, his toe nudging mine. I give him a nearly imperceptible nod, and Lucas nods, too. "Yes," he says, eyes finding his Dad's.

"O-okay," Lucas' dad grunts, lips parting as he glances between the two of us.

From where he's seated, Luis coughs. "It was pretty obvious, Dad. Your son's hella gay, and he's been constantly hanging out with this one," a pointed jab in my direction, "for the past few months."

Lucas' dad purses his lips, "well, I know that, but—"

Valeria shrugs, clearly having far too much fun with this, "yes, Papá, your son is truly a homosexual male with a queer boyfriend."

His dad coughs, lips parting, and Lucas' mom laughs, patting her husband on the shoulder. From where Lucas' abuelita is watching Caso Cerrado, there's a nearly inaudible cackle.

From across the table, Lucas' dad stares at me, almost as though trying to read into the very depths of my soul, eyebrows furrowed.

My eyes widen as I glance over at Lucas for help.

"A word, outside?" Lucas' dad asks, and I can only imagine this must be the horrific protective father mode that I've gotten all too familiar with after watching cheesy, straight rom-coms.

"Hey, jefe," Lucas' mom laughs, "leave my son's boyfriend alone."

Luis stands up, clearing his throat, clearly realizing the deep shit he's put me into. He rises to his feet, grin semi-apologetic. "Alright, well, seeing as we're all dispersing at the moment, I'm gonna go see Sofia—"

"Like hell you are," Valeria shakes her head, rolling her eyes at her eldest brother as she tugs at his wrist.

"Sit down, cabrón," Lucas says without even glancing his way, and Luis rolls his eyes before sitting right back down, his two siblings semi-jokingly glaring at him.

With that, Lucas' dad walks up onto the front porch, and I trail after him, my mind flashing to possible escape routes if he decides to kill me right here and now. Instead, he keeps his lips pursed.

"You two having fun?" He asks, expression blank.

I swallow, once, twice. "Healthy PG, Christian fun, sir." I decide to say, a grin rising to my face as I send him a thumbs up.

With that, Lucas' dad pulls on a whole-ass FBI interrogation, and I think I pass. At least, he nods a couple of times, finishing the discussion with an, "I'll be watching you."

The discussion—thankfully—comes to an end, and we make our way back inside, finding seats back at the dining table.

Once I'm back, Luis chuckles, clapping me on the shoulder. "It gets better, my dude, it gets better."

I must appear somewhat shaken, though, because Luis lets out another loud bark of laughter before dinner comes to an end and everyone clears their plates, all of us eventually dispersing. I've barely placed my plate in the dishwasher when I feel a tug of my collar.

Lucas laughs, and I shake my head as he's tugging me up the stairs and to his room, eyes excited and grin wide. The door shuts behind us, and Lucas mutters, "quick. We have a solid five minutes before Mamá remembers that we're boyfriends and forces us out of here."

"What do we do in those five minutes?" I ask, my voice feeling breathless as heat curls at my cheeks.

Lucas' smirk seems to become more devious, but maybe it's just the lighting.

In seconds, he loops his fingers through my belt buckles, tugging me closer to him.

"Oh, I have a few ideas," he says, biting his bottom lip as he presses our torsos against each other's, all the oxygen somehow sucked from my lungs.

And then he's kissing me. Warm and slow. But in seconds, he's quick, lips moving against mine, my soft sighs being swallowed by his kisses. I can feel him against me, and we're nearly explosive.

Everything is heat, and I can't get enough of it.

"You were amazing out there," I murmur against his lips, and I feel him smile against mine in return, "really."

Lucas just laughs that melodic laugh, and his hands gently slide up my shirt, me nodding him on as he continues gently, his hands against my skin, everywhere his hands glide over probably turning a stark pink.

"Seriously," I murmur again. "I could watch you forever. Over and over again. Fuck."

With my nod of assurance, Lucas' hands slip further underneath my shirt.

"I know, mi vida, I know." And he's peppering kisses onto my lips, and I'm laughing. And then we're falling, one of my knees propped up as Lucas is on me, straddling me. It feels like the world stops.

"Can I—?" He starts, and I nod once more as his lips gently slide to the tender area below my ear, a soft kiss pressed against the spot, a gentle lick causing my world to turn upside down.

Of course, the moment is stopped by a yell. "Lucas Alejandro Manuel Garcia!" And you'd think the fast-paced yells of Spanish would stop there. However, his name is followed by even more yelling, and I have to let out a laugh as Lucas groans.

"We have to head downstairs or my mom's going to come up here and erase me from this planet."

A laugh escapes my lips as Lucas pulls me to my feet, his hands trying to smooth down my vintage t-shirt, my hair. 

Another half- smirk appears on his lips, his thumb slowly tracing my bottom lip. "One more?" He proposes.

"One more," I agree, and our kiss is slow as his fingers tug at my hair, soft sounds escaping my lips.

And I'll admit it, Lucas fucking Garcia has ruined me.

However, I can't say I have any issue with that.

***

hi u are loved !! <3

and 4200+ words whoo look at me go !!



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